'I don't accept that. Let's not talk about risks. We would eliminate risks. There might be some inconvenience or discomfort,' said Churchward. 'That's up to them. Plenty of popular foods and drinks produce more disagreeable symptoms than PDM3. Health products, too. You take a multivitamin and there's a chance it will give you constipation.'
'So PDM3 is as safe as a vitamin tablet?'
'In the proper dosage, yes.'
'It's what Manny was looking for all his life,' said Leapman, spacing his words and speaking on a rising, evangelical note. 'A surefire product that will take the mass market by storm.'
David thought of his father. He remembered that bizarre wink in the morgue. The incident couldn't have meant anything, but it would never be erased from bis memory. 'So when do we go public on this?'
'I'd say tomorrow if we want to keep Manflex afloat,' said Leapman. Quick to note David's startled reaction, he added, 'At this stage, we just have to announce tomorrow that we'll be hosting a conference soon to present the first studies of a new drug for Alzheimer's. That's enough to restore some confidence.'
The decision couldn't be put off. Now David felt bis sweat go cold against his T-shirt He looked towards Churchward.
'That's fine by me, gentlemen,' the professor said, positively fraternal. 'I'm ready to publish.'
'We're not going into production yet,' Leapman told David in reassurance.
'Yes, but once we've made this announcement, there's no drawing back, or it'll play hell with our rating on the stock market'
'Agreed,' Leapman said cheerfully.
David was still troubled. 'The next step is going to require funding. Millions, probably. Clinical trials on a wide scale don't come cheap. And if we get FDA approval, we'll require massive new investment to launch this drug.'
'So we raise capital.'
'In a world recession?'
'We've got to be bold, David, or, frankly, Manflex is finished.' Leapman moved closer and said confidentially, 'Actually, I have some suggestions about additional financing mat I can put to you later.'
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
With her drawing pad tucked under her arm and the marker pen in her fist, Naomi stepped into the waiting taxi as confidently as royalty. Just in case the little girl was more uneasy than she appeared, Diamond tried to enliven the short journey by pointing out the London buses they passed. After ten or so, he gave up. Naomi didn't need distracting.
Julia Musgrave had wanted to buy her a special dress with a lace collar until Diamond had reminded her of the reason why the child was going in front of the television cameras. So, she was in clothes similar to those she had been found in-a brown-and-white check dress from Marks and Spencer, and white tights and trainers.
For a moment when the taxi circled the fountain in front of the Television Center at Shepherd's Bush, a small hand reached for Diamond's and gripped it tightly. Nerves? He wasn't convinced. Maybe she thinks I'm looking jittery, he told himself.
In the course of his police career, he had notched up plenty of television appearances, so by rights he shouldn't have had any anxieties. But he was nagged by doubts whether an appeal for information on 'Crimewatch' was any preparation for 'What About the Kids?'
He had been asked to report to the reception desk with Naomi by ten on Friday morning, and also to be patient, because Cedric was going to fit them in when an opportunity came; there was no way of predicting how soon it would be.
They were taken up to the hospitality suite. The purpose of such places is allegedly to put visitors at their ease. Diamond's confidence plunged as he stepped inside. He was a misfit here. The hospitality amounted to a stack of canned cola and plates of doughnuts and Penguin biscuits. Toys of various kinds were scattered invitingly around the leather and steel furniture. Naomi, for her part, appeared as indifferent to the food and the toys as Diamond was. She squatted on the carpeted floor and was soon completely absorbed in her drawing.
There are certain pivotal moments in any fanatical enterprise when you are compelled to pause, look around you and take stock. It wasn't the toys or the doughnuts that pulled Diamond up short, nor the arrival of three small girls in pink satin frocks, nor the boy with a punk haircut who came in on a skateboard. The critical factor was Sally, a deceptively docile-looking chimpanzee accompanied by a gray-haired woman wearing gauntlet gloves. Hardly had Sally been carried in and deposited at the far end of the settee where Diamond was seated before she started jumping and shrieking. The creature wasn't in distress, the woman assured them, nor was she nervous about appearing on TV. Sally, it seemed, was a regular, the mainstay of the program. No, Sally was screaming out of sheer high spirits, because she was happy.
Moreover, she wanted to share her happiness with Diamond. Dressed in a red leather harness, but given a fair amount of play on the rein held by her trainer, she was allowed to venture within a yard or so of Diamond (it was a fine judgment on the trainer's part) and flail her arms in his direction. Then she bared her teeth and screamed.
Because she was happy.
That morning over breakfast, he'd told Stephanie where he would be spending the day, remarking bleakly that a kids' TV program was a far cry from police work. Steph had pointed out mat he was a free agent now. If he wanted to go through hoops for young Naomi, fine, but he'd better not forget that it was a self-imposed quest 'What you mean,' he'd summed it up for her, 'is stop griping.'
She hadn't disagreed.
So if Peter Diamond, notoriously short-fused, was willing to share a settee with a screaming ape, something fundamental must have happened in his life, and it had. The fate of one small, silent girl now governed him; and all she had done was place her hand in his a few times.
Not wanting to make waves, he endured a full fifteen seconds of Sally the chimp before moving to another chair. He even smiled good-naturedly at the trainer, acting on a shrewd suspicion that if it came to a showdown, he and Naomi would be out on the street, not Sally.
Not to be denied, the chimp continued to make screaming sorties in his direction.
'She likes you,' the woman declared in that evasion often used by owners of animals that terrorize other people. 'She's really taken a shine to you.'
Relief presently arrived in the person of a bright-eyed young woman who introduced herself as Justine and said she was Cedric's personal assistant At her side was a black boy looking not much older than Naomi. 'This is Curtis who'll be interviewing you,' Justine said, and explained as Diamond's eyebrows shot up, 'The program is entirely presented by kids.' And with that, Justine smiled and left.
Curtis winked. He was wearing a red baseball cap and a black T-shirt with the program's title across the front in white lettering. He extended a small hand to Diamond. 'Pete-you don't mind if I call you Pete?-I'm really sorry I can't tell you when we'll do our spot,' he said, sounding like someone five times his age, 'but I thought you and Naomi might like to see inside the studio while we have the chance.'
'We'd appreciate that,' Pete confirmed. About the only other person in the world who used the short form of his name was Stephanie. On a snap assessment, Curtis was worth making an exception for. No one else in the hospitality suite had been winkled out by their interviewer to become familiar with the studio.
Naomi had to be helped to her feet, she was so engrossed in her drawing.
'Is that Japanese writing?' Curtis asked.
'It's a nice idea, but I don't believe so,' Diamond answered after a glance at the sheet, which was decorated once again with diamond shapes. 'You know, of course, that she doesn't speak?'
'You bet I do, Pete,' came the answer. Curtis led them at a springy step through a couple of swing doors into die studio, a cavernous place, in semidarkness except for the set of a pirate ship, where the technicians were setting up. With a caution to watch out for cables, Curtis made a beeline for an unlighted stage dressed up as an airport departure lounge, but scaled to child-size. Through a window, a model jumbo jet was visible on a realistic- looking runway.
